Company Ink by E.L. Lewis

t w e n t y

"Here, take my hand," I say to Ness as I help her out of the cab. Our Sunday has turned into a not-so-fun day, when Lucy called me, to say that Ness's doctor had to cancel her Monday morning appointment but could see her at 12 pm today instead. After everything that went down on Friday, I definitely needed some Ness time, but I guess it'll have to wait.

Ness grabs my forearm and I lead her through the doors of Pacific Medical Center. I shouldn't have chugged that mimosa before hailing a cab, we didn't have time to order brunch before we had to leave, which means the contents of my stomach consist purely of orange juice and a pretty strong prosecco. Perhaps this is a good thing, I did eat around fifteen pounds of chocolate yesterday, my version of therapy; so, a few missed calories won't kill me.

"I'll wait for you here," I tell Ness as I check her in with the receptionist. "How long do you think you'll be?" Ness hums and holds up one finger. I wish she'd just use her words, it's not like she can't speak, I just think she's embarrassed by the sound of her voice. "An hour?"

Ness nods. "Yes."

"Okay, well I'm probably going to get some food while I wait. Are you hungry? Do you want a snack now?"

Vanessa shakes her head. "No."

I narrow my eyes. "Did you eat before we met up?"

Ness smiles cheekily. "Maybe."

"Uh-huh," I hum. "Such a traitor."

A nurse comes around the front desk and holds out her arm. "Dr. Felton is waiting in his office. Ready to go?”

Ness nods while waving at me. "Bye."

I watch her turn the corner and disappear down the hallway. I turn my attention back to the haggard-looking receptionist. "Is there somewhere I can get some food around here?"

"There's a little cafe all the way down the hallway to your right," he informs me with a smile. "The coffee's not the best but the muffins? To die for!"

"Noted," I laugh. "Did you want me to bring you back something? Maybe a muffin?" He looks like he's been working all night. Either that, or he was up partying all night. Regardless, the young man looks like he needs some sustenance.

His eyes light up. "Oh my God, really? That would be amazing. I don't have anyone to cover me for an hour.  Let me just give you some cash."

I wave him off. "Don't worry about it, on me. Any preference?"

"Blueberry if they have it; otherwise, anything is fine!"

"I'll see what I can do," I say and then head to the cafe.

I'm hoping that they sell sandwiches not just pastries, because I spent all of yesterday tasting wedding cake samples with Monique and Matt. Matt's best man was supposed to be there as well but couldn't make it, good riddance I say, more cake for us.

As I turn the corner and the cafe comes into sight, I suck my teeth in disappointment; they only have baked goods. I grab two blueberry muffins and plop an herbal tea bag into a cup of hot water, before making my way to the checkout counter.

"That'll be $9.79, please," the cashier informs me with a slight smile. I hold out my phone and attempt to pay with ApplePay. "Sorry, we don't have tap, ma'am."

I let out an embarrassed giggle. "Right." I rummage through my bag looking for my credit card. A muscular bare arm extends in front of me, a crisp twenty-dollar bill pinched between two fingers.

"On me," a familiar voice says. Turning around my eyebrows knit together. What in the—

"Blake?" I do a double take, raking my eyes down the length of his body, making sure I'm not seeing things. "What're you doing here?" I pause, looking down at his legs. "You're wearing jeans."

"It's the weekend, Cassandra," Blake laughs, holding his to-go cup of coffee up in the air. "Plus, this coffee, please," he says to the cashier who takes his money. "Keep the change."

"Thank you," I mutter, grabbing my muffins and tea and walking to the side of the kiosk, still puzzled.

"You just look so—casual," I note, examining his outfit; black Levi jeans, Vans, and a denim button up with the sleeves rolled up to three-quarters.

Blake perks up an eyebrow. "Contrary to popular belief, I don't live in my suit."

I shake my head, snorting. "I would've bet money that you sleep in it."

"Sorry to disappoint you but I do own regular clothes." He takes a sip of his coffee, nodding towards my hands. "Two muffins? Someone's hungry."

"One of them is for the receptionist," I explain. "I should go give it to him. He looked like he was going to pass out."

"I'll walk with you," Blake says, gesturing for me to go first.

"You never answered my question. What're you doing here?" I ask as we begin walking back to the waiting area at the front desk.

"My father is in the stroke rehabilitation program here," Blake explains quietly. "My brother usually brings him, but my nephew's summer recital was this afternoon so he couldn't make it."

"Stroke rehab? I thought your dad had a heart attack," I muse out loud, my conversation with Kitty and David replaying in my head.

"No, it was a stroke," Blake says, taking a sip of coffee. "Who told you it was a heart attack?"

I bite my lip, not wanting to get Kitty or David in trouble. "I just heard it around the office."

"Rumors," Blake hums, his eyes leaden and unimpressed. "I should've known. We never disclosed why my father stepped down, so I guess people are making assumptions."

We stop at the front desk and I hand the muffin to the receptionist. "Thank you! You're a Godsend," he says.

I smile. "No worries." Turning back to Blake, I point to two chairs around an empty table. "Wanna sit?"

"Sure." Blake nods and we sit down. "So, what brings you here? Is everything okay?"

"With me? Yeah, I'm fine," I mutter, picking at my muffin. "My cousin Ness is a TBI patient here."

"TBI?" Blake asks knowingly, his sympathetic eyes meeting mine. "Traumatic Brain Injury?"

I take a deep breath. "Yeah, she was in an accident three years ago and suffered from a subdural hematoma. Her fine motor and speech skills were affected."

"Similar to my father." Blake nods in understanding. "Is she doing better? Your cousin?"

"I think so... Her doctor's say that her condition is permanent, but she's much stronger and more articulate now than she was a year or two ago, so I don't know. All we can do is hope for the best."

"Hope's important," Blake says, a crooked grin capturing his features. "That's what my mother keeps telling us. We can't give up otherwise they'll give up."

"Exactly!" I exclaim, tossing chunks of muffin into my mouth. "What about your dad? Any progress?"

Blake narrows his eyes and laughs. "You have some crumbs—" He rubs his chin. I quickly brush them away, blushing. He continues, his eyes bright with amusement, "My father is a tough man. I don't think he'll give up until he can swing a nine iron again."

A smile clips the corners of my mouth. "Well, I'm sure he'll be dominating the links again soon."

"Links?" he asks. "Are you trying to impress me with your golf terminology, Cassandra?"

"I'm doing no such thing." I roll my eyes, leaning back into the chair. "By the way, I've been meaning to ask you this, but why do you insist on calling me, Cassandra?"

"Truthfully?" His playful gaze flitters around my face. "Because it bugs you."

I cross my arms and glower at him. "That's not fair. Blake isn't short for anything so how am I supposed to bug you back?"

His eyes glow knowingly. "Want to know something funny?"

I purse my lips. "What?"

"Blake's not even my first name," he says, smiling slyly.

"No way! Are you kidding me?" I exclaim. "What is it then?"

He shrugs. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

I shake my head at the cheeky bastard sitting in front of me. "I bet it's something super obnoxious like Bartholomew or Archibald."

Blake snorts. "You can bet all you want but you'll never find out."

I lean over the table, staring at him with determination. "Watch me! I'm a regular Daphne when I want to be."

"Your detective reference is... Scooby-Doo?"

"Yeah, me and Ness used to be obsessed. We dressed up as Velma and Daphne for Halloween three years in a row." I laugh to myself. "Even though Daphne was both of our favorites, Ness always went as Velma. Never complained."

"Your cousin sounds like a really nice person." Blake tilts his head, his eyes so soft and gentle.

"She is!"

For the next twenty minutes, I talk to Blake about Vanessa and all the antics we got up to as kids. He listens to every word, asks follow-up questions, and even shares a couple of tidbits from his past as well. Apparently, little Blake was quite the dinosaur fan, dressing up as a T-Rex on more than one occasion. Jeans-Blake is way more open than Suit-Blake. I don't know if it's because we're outside the constraints and nuances of the office, but I feel like I'm talking to a completely different person.

"Miss Carrington," a voice calls from the front desk and I turn my head. Oh! Ness is already finished? I check my watch. She's out earlier than expected. The nurse walks my cousin to our table, and I stand up.

"Thank you,' I say to the nurse then face Blake, who's in a staring contest with my cousin. "This is Ness, Ness this is my boss—"

"Adrian?" she asks quietly, perking up an eyebrow. Blake's lips twist up in a scowl.

Dear lord. I give her elbow a tight 'shut-up' squeeze. "No... this is Blake," I correct her in a sweetly strained tone. "He's the managing partner at the firm."

"Oh..." Vanessa gives me a narrowed side-eye as she hums. "Hi."

"It's nice to meet you, Vanessa." Blake extends his hand forward, hovering it in front of Ness. My cousin reaches out slowly and gives him a slight shake.

"Should we go now?" I ask Ness. "We can catch a movie or something?"

She eyes my half-empty cup of peppermint tea. "Finish your tea," she says, smiling.

Blake gets up and pulls a chair from a different table. I help Vanessa take a seat. Before I can even break the ice between my boss and cousin, Blake turns to face Ness.

"Cassie's told me that you're painting a lot of landscapes these days. Is that correct?" he asks. Vanessa nods slowly, her uncertain gaze briefly flickering towards me. I'm sure she's not happy I've been talking about her to a stranger.

"There's a Monet exhibit at the Art Museum starting next week. Would you be interested in going? I'm good friends with the curator and can get you a couple of passes."

"Really?" she asks, her eyes lighting up to a beautiful shade of hazel. "Yes."

I can't help but grin. "You know the curator at the SAM?" I ask.

Blake smirks. "I know a lot of people, Cassie."

I open my mouth in pure excitement. "You called me Cassie!" Ness pouts as her eyebrows scrunch together watching our interaction. "He always calls me Cassandra at work," I explain to her.

Ness giggles as she shakes her head and meets Blake's light expression. "She hates it," she says.

Blake winks at Vanessa. "I know."

Leaning back into my seat, I sip on my tea as I observe Blake and Vanessa scroll through his phone and talk about French art history. Perhaps talking is not the right word, they're communicating, through nods and hums and hand actions. Blake talks to Vanessa like she's a grown-up, like there's nothing wrong with her; and this sight, for some peculiar reason, causes my heart to melt.

Vanessa is examining a painting on Blake's phone when it vibrates. Ness passes it to him. "It's probably my father," he says, reading the text message. "Ah, he's finished with his appointment, I should go and get him."

"Yeah." I check the time. "We should get going as well. I think the movie starts in twenty minutes." I look at Ness. "Still down?"

Vanessa nods and I give her a hand standing up. "Well, this was...nice," I say to Blake, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

Blake smiles, running a hand through his hair. "See you at work." He pauses, tossing me a playful grin. "Cassie."

I roll my eyes. "Bye," I sing, walking towards the exit, my arm looped through my cousin's.

"Bye, Ness," he calls out. "I'll give Cassie those tickets on Monday."

Vanessa turns her head and waves her hand. "Bye, Blake!"

When we get outside, I pull out my phone to order an Uber. Ness tugs on my arm, demanding my attention.

"What?"

Vanessa tilts her head to the side. "I like him," she whispers, her eyes darting to the front entrance.

"Yeah..." I bite my lip, my own gaze shifting back towards the Medical Center. "Me too."